


you're my favorite explosion

by jinhoes



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Polyamory, University, Witches, but so are minseok and jongdae its fine, love triangle but not rly, minseok isn't a witch but hes a uh, smth, tao is conflicted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 18:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinhoes/pseuds/jinhoes
Summary: Competition: Who Can Charm Zitao the Best? became central to the lives of the three of them for about four weeks.





	you're my favorite explosion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spicyboyfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyboyfriend/gifts).



> happy 20th birthday to my best friend TJ!!! ilysm and i really had fun writing this even though its a Mess, sry abt that ajksdfh but i hope i managed to at least somewhat come close to ur ideal characterization?? maybe?? fuck i'll do better for ur christmas fic. anyway one birthday poly fic in exchange for another birthday poly fic ig lmfao anywaY ilysm have an amazing day even though I'm posting this kinda early oops rip sry

“Hey, Minseok!” Jongdae said loudly as he entered his dorm room, speaking more out of precaution than actual greeting. He poked his head in the doorway and glanced around, but saw nothing in his line of sight beyond a closed bathroom door, and his own clothes strewn throughout the room- though, in lesser numbers than when he’d left. No living thing visible.

 

Satisfied that he was alone, he walked inside and dropped his backpack on the chair of his desk with a hefty  _ thunk  _ that resounded through the dorm room.

 

The door of his bathroom slammed open violently and Jongdae bit back a scream, scrambling until his back was pressed against the wall and his hands were raised up by his head, in a mockery of a fighting stance.

 

Of course, Minseok watched him with dead eyes, allowing shame and embarrassment to crawl up Jongdae’s neck. Once enough time had passed that Jongdae started to wonder if he was going to be frozen as he stood forever, Minseok shook his head and exited the doorway of the bathroom, allowing Jongdae to lower his hands back to his sides. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Fuck you,” Jongdae said intelligently, dropping back down onto the mattress of his bed. He stared at Minseok as the guy pushed Jongdae’s backpack to the floor and claimed his usual spot there. “You know how to open the bathroom door without scaring the shit out of me.”

 

“But this way was funny,” said Minseok, grinning shamelessly and ducking the pillow that took aim at his face. “Hey! I’m holed up in here for most of the day, the least you can do is let me enjoy the little entertainment I get.”

 

“You absolutely could find a way out of here if you wanted to,” Jongdae said, unamused as he fell back against his blankets. “You just want to sleep here instead.”

 

“Of course,” Minseok said blandly, eyeing Jongdae. “Your room is so boring, it's the perfect place to sleep my life away.”

 

“Oh, fuck you,” repeated Jongdae, though Minseok wasn’t exactly wrong. He’d lived in the same dorm room for years and barely decorated with anything other than a bookshelf stocked with what probably constitutes as too many books on the occult, and a makeshift altar on a tarp next to his bed, ready to be shoved underneath at a moment’s notice. The most interesting thing beyond that in the sheer number of clothing he generally had thrown on the floor, which Minseok seemed to be very interested in given the amount of time he seemed to spend bothering to clean it up.

 

_ “It gives me something to do,” _ Minseok had insisted, as though Jongdae couldn’t see the way his fingers seemed to twitch whenever he spotted an item on the floor, or somewhere else that it didn’t belong.

 

_ “I definitely don’t mind that,” _ Jongdae had assured, and that was that.

 

Now, Minseok shrugged in response to Jongdae’s hurled comment, leaning back in the chair so only his tiptoes skimmed the ground. He was barefoot, wearing athletic shorts and a ratted t-shirt even though it was the end of November. Jongdae would be impressed if he wasn’t aware that Minseok didn’t go outside, anyway. “I want Chinese for dinner today.”

 

Jongdae sighed, glancing over Minseok even though Minseok was just watching his fingers lace with each other. It had been a while, he admitted to himself, since he had even bought food from the student center, rather than bland food for ten dollars from the grocery store that was meant to last him the week. And now that he actually had two mouths to feed, it was putting a strain on his wallet.

 

Still. He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t tired of not enjoying eating, either.

 

“We can do that,” he said, and almost smiled as he watched Minseok’s whole mood perk up from bored to excited. “Just let me shower and change first.”

 

“Please don’t take five hundred years this time,” Minseok scolded instantly, and Jongdae rolled his eyes as he snatched a sweatshirt and jeans from on top of the dresser.

 

Sometimes, he missed the days where his cat wasn’t so high maintenance.

 

\---

 

To be fair, Minseok wasn’t really a cat. In fact, Minseok took almost as much offence to being called a cat as he did to being called a human, not that Jongdae could really understand that.

 

_ “I’m completely different,” _ Minseok had insisted, sticking his nose up at Jongdae and watching him pace around the room, close to the beginning of Jongdae learning the truth about Minseok- or, roughly two months prior.  _ “Cats and humans can’t transform from one thing to another. Cats and humans can’t do magic.” _

 

_ “Humans that are witches can,” _ Jongdae had interrupted, and Minseok had shrugged.

 

_ “If you want to call witches humans, then sure. That’s probably what I’m closest to.” _

 

Jongdae was probably the most suspicious witch in all of human existence. In the olden days, if anyone had been looking for someone to accuse of being a witch who served the devil, he would have been the first person sent to the chopping block. It was in how he carried himself, he figured- slightly awkward, but with a confidence and a bit too much of an attitude that just screamed  _ I know something you don’t and also never will _ .

 

_ “I don’t act like that,” _ Jongdae had insisted, and Minseok had shushed him without a care.

 

Maybe he did act like that a  _ little _ , but still. Point was, Kim Jongdae was a witch. And a real witch at that, with actual magical gift that he could harness in the form of spells. Though he’d been a practicing witch for several years, he’d only gained his powers halfway through his freshman year of college.

 

When he’d thought to actually ask Minseok why this was, Minseok had shrugged, clapping his hands to kill a gnat that had been buzzing around him for a few minutes with an accuracy that made Jongdae uncomfortable.

 

_ “You weren’t a virgin anymore,” _ he’d said simply, and then gone back to catching flies while Jongdae gawked at him. Though Jongdae wasn’t entirely sure Minseok wasn’t joking with him, they had in fact been two events that had happened at almost the same exact time. He’d left it at that.

 

Minseok himself had been a whole frightening saga of finding a stray cat at the beginning of winter his freshman year and being too kind-hearted to let it stay out, instead taking it into his dorm despite pets being a very clear violation of the rules. The bastard had had the nerve to meet him as both cat and person for months before finally revealing his scheme. Asshole.

 

Still, he had to say that he thought he was definitely adjusting to this better than any average person would (any sane person, at least, as Minseok had unhelpfully commented overtop his observation). And he thought Minseok could be thankful for that, too, not that Minseok ever agreed with Jongdae’s line of thinking.

 

_ “You should be thankful I found you first,” _ Minseok had said, in a tone that had sent goosebumps running up Jongdae’s arms, and then nothing more on the matter. Jongdae hadn’t pressed, because he had a feeling that Minseok was correct.

 

\---

 

The alarm blared beside his head, insistent and unwelcomingly familiar. Jongdae made a muffled sound of displeasure and turned over, pulling the pillow over his face and ears as though that would somehow block out his responsibilities for the day ahead. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how life worked, so after a few minutes Jongdae sighed and was forced to actually open his eyes and prepare to face the day.

 

Jongdae was an English Literature major- for what reason he decided on that, he’d lost sight of long ago, but he was nothing if not committed to his choices. Choices which included his composition class, located in a building on the other side of campus at ten in the morning every Monday and Thursday.

 

He grit his teeth and tugged a sweater over his head, hoping he didn’t look like a complete sleep deprived disaster. With an absent minded scratch to the back of sleeping cat-Minseok’s ears, he was out the door, down the hall, and to the sidewalk of the campus outside.

 

His composition class was one that was relatively large compared to his more major-specific classes (he had about thirty people in his media and technology class- how he’d managed to luck out like that, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t complain). But this class probably had about seventy or more people in it, mostly lit majors but also including some people who dreamed of being authors. Jongdae had never seen the appeal.

 

The lecture hall, though, was much more warm and welcome to his skin than the outside was, so he took his time walking all the way through the building, stopping and giving slight greetings to those he knew as he passed (hello Junmyeon, yes, I noticed it was cold outside… Baekhyun, I don’t know what’s in that cup, but if you bring it any closer to me I swear to god-). By the time he was sitting in his normal spot near the door, laptop propped open and loaded with one page on a document and another on youtube, just in case, the class was already beginning.

 

Truthfully, Jongdae didn’t  _ mind _ college. Or, rather, he didn’t mind college on the days that he wasn’t straining to meet a deadline. And this class, in particular, wasn’t bad. Much of it he spent with his earbuds in and eyes glued to the computer screen. The people around him tended to do the same.

 

Today, thirty minutes in, the boy who sat in front of him fell asleep.

 

This, too, wasn’t abnormal. Jongdae stared at him, distracted, as he puffed light breaths out of his lips and his snapback hung on for dear life, where it was still sitting precariously on his head. He fell asleep often, though Jongdae wasn’t sure why, whether it was partying or studying or anything else. He’d told him his name once, when Jongdae had passed him once after class. It was-

 

“Zitao,” said the professor from the front of the room. Zitao jerked up, snapback finally coming loose and dropping to the floor below with a dull  _ thud _ . He reddened in an instant. “May as well stay home if you’re going to come here and sleep.”

 

“Sorry,” Zitao said, a hint of frustration and annoyance in his voice that probably had to do with this interaction also being a regular event in this class. Honestly, it was probably one of the most interesting parts of Jongdae’s week. That was sad.

 

Jongdae turned back to his laptop screen, and clicked the play button on his show.

 

\---

 

Minseok annoyed Jongdae for a solid hour until Jongdae finally agreed to take him to the student cafeteria, with Minseok guilting him by citing the months that he’d been forced to live on grainy, bland kibble.

 

_ You could have changed earlier, _ Jongdae pointed out, grabbing his wallet from his desk. Minseok shrugged.

 

_ You would have kicked me out if I’d done it earlier,  _ he claimed, in that voice that made it seem like he knew everything for a fact, and this wasn’t speculation. That voice irritated the fuck out of Jongdae.

 

_ You don’t know me, _ Jongdae said gruffly, pushing open the door of his dorm and leading the way to the student lounge. Minseok, who very much did know Jongdae, only smiled pleasantly.

 

Jongdae didn’t often frequent the student lounge unless dragged there by a friend, and he’d only brought Minseok there twice, out of fear that people may begin to question too deep into why he was there. The official story thus far was that Minseok was a cousin of his, although neither of them looked anything alike. Those he’d told it to so far, being Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and Jongin, had bought it, so it was good enough.

 

But general, he wasn’t one of those college students who was regularly seen there. The food was expensive, even if it was better than anything he personally bought, and the cafeteria was often cold and full, to the point that finding a seat often required one to sit far too close to strangers for Jongdae’s personal comfort.

 

Today, however, it seemed to be mostly empty, which was only a positive to him.

 

“I hope they fixed the ice cream machine,” Jongdae half-said half-complained, walking forward in the direction of the actual food. “It’s been broken for three we-”

 

Minseok’s hand closed on his arm and he cut off, stopping mid sentence and mid step to turn and give Minseok a confused look. But Minseok wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were darting all around the cafeteria, forehead furrowed like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He flared his nostrils and- was he sniffing the air? Suddenly, Jongdae wanted to pull his arm away and leave Minseok to fend for himself.

 

“What?” Jongdae asked finally, after a few moments of standing there in awkward silence. Minseok shook his head, though what at, Jongdae wasn’t sure.

 

“I thought I- it’s fine.” Minseok dropped Jongdae’s arm, and pushed straight past him in a beeline for the food, even as Jongdae spluttered, because it very clearly wasn’t fine. But Minseok had completely brushed him off, busying himself with grabbing a plate and piling it high. Jongdae narrowed his eyes, but figured he could confront Minseok later. At the moment, his stomach was growling, and he didn’t want to raise attention on the two of them by arguing. He much preferred the idea of confronting Minseok from the comfort of his own room, where he could be as loudly displeased as he desired at whatever reason Minseok had for keeping quiet on this.

 

He moved into the line and got his food in silence.

 

Often when they ate, Jongdae did a lot of talking to Minseok, with Minseok saying little back, a habit which came from when Minseok had just been Jongdae’s cat and Jongdae had just complained at him every time he came home from a class. At the time, Jongdae had suspected Minseok was annoyed at him for doing nothing but whine. Today, though, the little conversation he brought up was almost plainly ignored by Minseok.

 

Minseok focused mostly on his food, or vaguely nodding along to what Jongdae had to say. When Jongdae diverted the topic of his conversation to “And then the professor told us that eating Hawaiian bread is healthier than normal bread” as relating to his composition class, Minseok gave him a funny look. That proved he was at least somewhat listening, but mostly he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

 

Eventually, Jongdae stopped talking, and just went on his phone. Minseok was even more irritating than usual, apparently.

 

He stood up to leave when Minseok finished his own tray of food, but Minseok shook his head.

 

“What do you mean no?” Jongdae asked plainly.

 

“You can head back,” said Minseok, shrugging. “I’m going to stay and walk around before I head back. Besides, don’t you have studying to do for that one class or something?”

 

Jongdae did have studying to do for that one class or something, but that didn’t stop him from eyeing Minseok strangely. Typically, when it came time to return home after an outing, Minseok didn’t want to spend even an extra minute outside, so Jongdae thought that he had a right to be suspicious. But, then again, maybe that was a good thing. Maybe this meant that Minseok wasn’t going to be keeping an eye on him so closely from now on- he probably thought that Jongdae hadn’t noticed it, but he had. Maybe this meant he’d actually be getting some privacy, for the first time in a long time.

 

So he just said, “See you later, then,” and grabbed his tray, and left.

 

Minseok was a creature very in tune with magic, and the way that it interacted with the world. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was, in fact, a magical creature. It was how he’d found Jongdae, after all. He knew the way that things were supposed to be instinctively. He could detect the smallest changes to the environment as it was, and such a large presence as the one that he’d felt the moment he’d entered the cafeteria was impossible to go unnoticed.

 

He’d sensed it before. It probably would have been impossible not to have, given his own sensitivity and the way that this presence affected it. But he’d never sensed it quite so strongly.

 

He narrowed his eyes, made sure that Jongdae had left the building, and then moved in the direction of the source as subtle as he could.

 

The source was one of the other only presences in the cafeteria, sitting at a table towards the windows with a drink next to the laptop he had in front of him. He was typing something that Minseok couldn’t see. An essay? Minseok didn’t particularly care. Not when he could feel the power coming off the boy in front of him in waves, power that wasn’t entirely positive.

 

Minseok sat across from him, and ignored the weird look he received the instant that he did so. Instead, he sat his elbows on the table and leaned forward. The boy’s eyes were wide and startled, clearly confused.

 

“I’m Minseok,” he said slowly. When he didn’t say anything more, the boy nodded, in a similar fashion.

 

“Oh. Uh… hey.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Zitao.” He had a nice voice. He was a cute kid, too. Typical, Minseok supposed.

 

“Hey,” Minseok responded. “And you’re a witch.”

 

The response that Zitao gave to him was, in Minseok’s opinion, a lot overboard. He was still for a second, staring in confusion. And then he fell back against his seat and glared at Minseok. Truly, Minseok couldn’t understand why he appeared so offended by the accusation, which wasn’t even really an accusation- it was a fact, one that Minseok was very aware of. But Zitao spluttered, shaking his head.

 

“Go away,” he said, voice low and irritated. Minseok didn’t move.

 

“It’s fine,” Minseok insisted, leaning forward so his abdomen was pressed against the metal of the table before him. “I promise, I have no negative feelings towards witches.” Witches in general, at least. Though, Jongdae was certainly enough of an asshole, sometimes.

 

“I’m not a witch,” Zitao said, arms crossed. If Minseok didn’t know any better, he’d assume from the pose alone that Zitao was much too young to be in university. He looked very much the image of a pouty child. It was kind of amusing, and Minseok suspected the emotion made its way to his face, because Zitao scrunched up his nose and shook his head, slamming his laptop shut. “Whatever, I’m leaving.”

 

“Wait,” Minseok said quickly, reaching out his hand, but not touching Zitao. Zitao did not wait- he dropped his things into his backpack, grabbed his drink, and started to leave the cafeteria.  _ Shit _ .

Minseok followed him out of the student center building, catching up to Zitao on the sidewalk outside in mere moments, although Zitao’s legs were much, much longer than his own. He noted the way that Zitao wasn’t even glancing in his direction, instead staring towards the brick walls of the buildings they passed. Minseok really didn’t understand the aversion to the claim. A better lie would have been to laugh it off, rather than be so strongly affected.

 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok said, once Zitao had shifted his gaze from the building to the sidewalk, and his steps were slowed. Zitao didn’t respond, apparently still disinterested in conversation. “I promise you, I’m not looking to cause you trouble-”

 

“Why do you think I’m a witch?” Zitao asked bluntly, cutting Minseok off before he could get even close to examining himself. Zitao had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, and seemed to be calming down enough to seem… almost embarrassed, face turning a slight red color on his highset cheekbones. “What about me makes you think that?”

 

Minseok hesitated, wondering if he should make something up so as to deal the news easier to Zitao, or if he should just come out with it. But, honestly- tact wasn’t Minseok’s best trait.

 

“I know magic when I sense it,” said Minseok, shrugging. “I’ve known and understood how magical energy works and feels ever since I was born. And you have a lot of it.” The tensing of Zitao’s jaw didn’t go unnoticed. “I’ve been feeling the magical energy coming off of you ever since I came on campus, but I never knew the source until today.”

 

“What do you want from me?” Zitao asked, tone harsher than Minseok suspected he really meant. He had an angular face, but there was a softness underneath it. Minseok considered himself very good at reading people.

 

Zitao stopped on the sidewalk, facing Minseok as they both stood in front of one of the dorm buildings, one of three on campus and the farthest one from Jongdae’s dorm. Minseok pulled to a stop as well, facing Zitao. He paused, gathering himself, and then sighed.

 

“I have a friend,” said Minseok, looking Zitao straight in the eyes. Zitao had all of his attention focused on Minseok. “His name is Kim Jongdae-”

 

“Jongdae?” Zitao asked, furrowing his brow and surprising Minseok at the same time.

 

“You know him?” Minseok asked, more a statement than a question, but Zitao nodded quickly anyway.

 

“Yeah, I do. He sits behind me in composition class. Sometimes, when I fall asleep, he throws paper at the back of my head until I wake up.” Despite the fact that Minseok could most definitely see Jongdae doing such a thing more teasingly than in a friendly or helpful manner, Zitao’s voice held an air of fond gratefulness. “He’s a nice guy.”

 

“Right,” Minseok said drily. “Anyway. Kim Jongdae is a newborn witch.” He steamrolled past the look of astonishment on Zitao’s face. “And from what I can tell, you’ve had your powers for a while, haven’t you? At least a few years?”

 

Zitao’s face flushed, but he nodded again. “Yeah, I have. Jongdae is really-”

 

“Yes,” Minseok insisted. “He is. And he’s alone. He doesn’t have anyone to guide him, or teach him. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.” Minseok thought to the countless times in the last month that Jongdae had tried to use magic for something lazily, and had managed only to cause damage. The guy had his fair issues with restraint and control.

 

“Why can’t you help him?” Zitao asked quietly, cutting off the memory emerging in Minseok’s mind of the time that Jongae had managed to splinter an entire mug into pieces just by trying to levitate it towards him.

 

Minseok blinked, confused by the question. “Why can’t- I’m not a witch, Zitao.”

 

Zitao blinked similarly, apparently stunned by the answer. “Wait. If you’re not- then what are you?” The genuine surprise in his voice was downright endearing, and Minseok couldn’t help but smile at it.

 

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair, overgrown and in need of a cut. “I’ll come find you again in a few days, and we can talk some more. I’ll answer any questions you want to ask me, and you can answer some of mine. Deal?”

 

Zitao narrowed his eyes, the motion reminiscent of just shortly before. But the expression faded before long, and then he was nodding his consent. “I- okay. Deal.”

 

“Deal,” Minseok said, smiling pleasantly and broadly. “In the meantime, talk to Jongdae, alright? Not about witch things yet. But- start getting to know him. He needs a real friend.”  _ A close friend, a friend who wasn’t a cat or someone he just said fleeting hello’s to in the hallways _ .

 

Zitao said he would try his best.

 

\---

 

Jongdae exited the door of his composition class and probably would’ve started to power-walk straight back to his dorm, which awaited him with warmth and comfort and unhealthy food, if he hadn’t been stilled by the sound of someone calling after him.

 

It was Zitao, the kid who sat in front of him and fell asleep in around fifty-percent of the times that he showed up to class. Today, Zitao hadn’t fallen asleep, or at least, not that Jongdae had noticed. Which meant his hair lacked the normal half-smushed appearance that Jongdae had almost come to expect from him.

 

“Hey,” Jongdae said, smiling and fighting to keep the confusion from his voice. Because although they were on good terms, they had never spoken outside of the classroom doors- and rarely at all within them. Zitao was smiling back, though, casualness feigned but with good effort.

 

“Where are you heading?” Zitao questioned, falling into step alongside Jongdae. He had  a slight bounce to his step that appeared almost mismatched with his tall stature. Jongdae found it somewhat endearing, and fought to tear his gaze away.

 

“I was going to head back to my dorm and work on homework and studying,” Jongdae answered, although this was more like the opposite of his real plan, which involved sleeping and eating, primarily. “Why?”

 

Zitao seemed… almost disappointed. “Oh,” he said. “Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to the cafeteria and get coffee with me or something, but I guess not.”

 

Jongdae, for his part, did feel apologetic when he was faced with an expression like that. “Sorry,” he said. “Another time?”

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Zitao said, voice now more playful and good humored.

 

True to his word, Zitao asked Jongdae if he wanted to join him to get coffee a total of three more times before Jongdae came home from class with guilt in his stomach and asked Minseok to remind him to bring his wallet with him to composition next time.

 

“What for?” Minseok asked, eyeing Jongdae with interest as the witch walked across the dorm and then fell down onto his bed. “A date?”

 

Jongdae rolled his eyes, although he knew that Minseok couldn’t see it. “No. There’s a kid in my class that keeps asking if I want to go get coffee with him after class, and he’s nice. So I feel bad about turning him down.” And the truth was that he really, truly did feel bad about it. Although they hadn’t talked much, there was something very endearing about Zitao.

 

“Sounds like he’s asking you out to me,” Minseok interjected, disrupting Jongdae’s thoughts. “I don’t understand why anyone would do that, though-”

 

“Fuck off,” Jongdae said without much bite, rolling his eyes once again.

 

\---

 

Minseok met with Zitao less than two weeks after they’d met the first time, walking up to him in the student lounge and sitting across from him, much like he’d done in the cafeteria the first time. Only, on this occassion, Zitao had a much less negative reaction to Minseok’s actions.

 

“I was starting to think that you weren’t going to talk to me again,” Zitao said, with an air of jokingness, but Minseok thought there might have been some truth involved. He shrugged.

 

“It seems like Jongdae likes you,” he said, unconcerned. “I wanted to see what happened.”

 

“You sound like a supervillain when you talk like that,” Zitao said, this time with definite amusement. His grin showed all his teeth. “Like you’re designing all of this.” Minseok had half a mind to say that he was kind of pulling this all together, anyway, and so that wasn’t far from the truth. But he abstained.

 

“Anyway,” Minseok continued, “I told you I’d answer any of your questions that I could.”

 

“Do you think there’s a lot of questions you can answer?” Zitao hummed with just a bit too much teasingness to it. Minseok blinked, pretending to look hurt.

 

“I’m a supervillain, remember?”

 

“Actually,” Zitao said, the first part of his word trailing onto the last part of Minseok’s last word. “Let’s start with that.”

 

This time, when Minseok blinked, it was with actual confusion. “I’m not actually a supervillain-” he started, but Zitao cut him off, laughing lightly.

 

“No! Like- what are you?” his tone hushed, as though he was afraid that his question would reveal some big, world-altering secret. “You’re not a witch, but you kind of have powers…” he trailed off, evidentally waiting for Minseok to fill in the gap, but Minseok didn’t jump straight to it. He laced his fingers together and balanced his chin on top of them, content.

 

“What do you think I am?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and allowing himself to grin. Zitao hesitated, and then whined.

 

“I don’t  _ know _ ! I don’t see anything in my books about a magical being like you. Are you a demon or something?” Zitao’s expression fell into something much more serious. “You’re not a demon… right?”

 

Minseok hummed, getting a kick out of watching the way that Zitao seemed to squirm under his gaze. Finally, he shook his head, freeing the college student of the trouble raging in his mind. “No. I’m not a demon.” The way that the tension fell from Zitao was visible, and audible in his sigh.

 

“Well,” said Zitao, “Then I really, really don’t know. What are you?” He leaned forward, and Minseok was struck with the inverted position of the two of them, from just two weeks ago.

 

Minseok didn’t see much of a reason to drag it out any longer. “I’m Jongdae’s familiar,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. At the expression of confusion that passed over Zitao’s face, he laughed. “I haven’t always been Jongdae’s, but I’ve always been a familiar.”

 

“Aren’t familiars….” Zitao started, and then trailed off, an element of sheepishness in his expression.

 

“Animals?” Minseok filled in. Zitao nodded slowly in confirmation. For his part, Minseok didn’t mock him for it, even though a part of him really, really wanted to laugh. “Kind of. Familiars are an in between, something that’s not human and not animal.” He tapped his fingers on the plastic of the table. “We’re magical creatures. I have two forms, and this is just one of them.”

 

Zitao’s eyes were wide, as though he thought enlarging them would help him to better absorb the information being handed to him. Finally, he fell back in his own chair. “I- okay.” He pursed his lips, considering. “Tell me more things.” There was a fierce curiosity in his eyes, something exciting, and Minseok couldn’t help but find himself willing to indulge in it.

 

\---

 

“Jongdae!”

 

The voice was familiar at this point, making Jongdae question why he even bothered to walk out of class, instead of wait for the source of it to catch up. But the tradition seemed almost unbreakable, at this point.

 

So instead, he slowed down and turned, allowing Zitao to pull up alongside him. His face was flush on one side, some strands of hair sticking stubbornly to his cheeks. Jongdae had wondered how Zitao got any work done at all, given his sleeping habits. He didn’t bother to ask.

 

“Hey,” Zitao said, without any trace of shyness or awkwardness. He had his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and a small smile on his face. “So. Coffee?”

 

Jongdae smiled back, feeling his own wallet in the pocket of his jeans. “Yeah,” he said, seeing the way that Zitao’s face lit up at the word. “Let’s get coffee.”

 

\---

 

_ Getting coffee _ turned out to become what happened after every class.

 

Zitao was beyond ecstatic to do more up close and personal studying of Jongdae than he’d been able to do by catching glimpses of Jongdae in the reflection of his laptop, or from across campus. He kept finding himself searching for similar traits between the both of them, something that overwhelmingly said  _ witch _ for the both of them.

 

And they did have a few things in common. Zitao was pleased to learn that Jongdae’s humor consisted of a pleasant mix of biting sarcasm and stupid jokes, both of which made Zitao choke with laughs, and both of which he also utilized. Jongdae was a good listener, too, something Zitao liked to think he also was, even if he was the one being listened to more often than not.

 

The most pleasant surprise came to Zitao their fourth outing, as they were both carrying their coffees to sit at the open table besides the window. He dropped into his seat and laughed.

 

“You speak Mandarin?”

 

Jongdae’s cheeks actually turned ruddy, even as he smiled with his own amount of pride. “A little,” he admitted. “I took it as a class when I was in high school, and I’ve been trying to keep up on it.”

 

“Zhongda,” Zitao said, pronouncing Jongdae’s name with heavy Chinese inflection. Jongdae grinned broadly.

 

“Zhongda,” he agreed, not even bothering to ignore the rising affection in his chest.

 

\---

 

There was a loud crash and then Jongdae’s ears were ringing powerfully, overtaking any other sound. He felt a pain in his chest, ebbing and flowing with every pump of his heart that he could feel pumping through his body, like his whole form was throbbing. He coughed and then cried out, when the pain in his chest intensified.

 

He thought that he felt hands on him, hands in his hair and hands against his chest, hands that pressed too hard and burned too hard. He thrashed, trying to pull away as they grew hotter and hotter-

 

Minseok’s face hovered above his, and the pain was gone.

 

Jongdae felt the racing of his heart and heard his breaths coming out intensely through his mouth, felt the shake to his limbs, but he felt fine.

 

Minseok’s lips were thin, and Jongdae thought he was reading concern from his face- but then Jongdae blinked, and instead, Minseok looked irritated, standing upright and leaving Jongdae to sort himself out.

 

“I told you not to push yourself,” Minseok said, watching as Jongdae struggled to get his panicked breathing under control.

 

“... I didn’t think I was,” Jongdae said quietly, swallowing thickly. He pushed himself to sit against the wall with wobbly hands. He really, truly hadn’t thought he was pushing himself. He’d been gathering the energy within his body, everthing had been going smoothly, and then it had just… snapped.

 

Minseok said nothing. He sat in the chair at Jongdae’s desk, leaning an elbow against the surface and balancing his cheek against his palm. He looked thoughtful, considerate.

 

“Do you have Zitao’s number?” he asked suddenly. Jongdae furrowed his brow, but admitted that he did. Minseok nodded, standing up and grabbing Jongdae’s phone from beside the bed while Jongdae watched, confusion only growing.

 

“What’s going on?” Jongdae demanded, standing on his feet. He felt like his systems had calmed down enough that he wasn’t fighting to stabilize them anymore. Minseok was leaned over his phone and typing something out. Jongdae had half a mind to take his phone from Minseok’s hands.  “How do you know-”

 

“We’ve been talking,” Minseok said, closing the phone and setting it aside. When Jongdae took his phone back and opened it, Minseok didn’t make any move to stop him.

 

_ Me _

would you mind coming by my dorm asap? we need to talk ( _ 4:54pm _ )

 

_ Z.Tao _

no problem ill be there soon whats your dorm? ( _ 4:56pm _ )

 

“What the hell do we need to talk about?” Jongdae questioned, narrowing his eyes. “And when did you even- why-”

 

Minseok groaned, leaning his head back against his chair. “Just calm down, Jongdae. It’s not some big conspiracy or anything.”

 

“Explain,” Jongdae demanded, standing directly in front of Minseok. And so, Minseok lifted his head, opened his mouth, and began to explain.

 

\---

 

“You’re a witch,” Jongdae said in lieu of greeting, the moment he opened the door to allow Zitao in. Zitao seemed less than impressed, lifting his eyebrow and staring at Jongdae. His cheeks were flush with cold, and his hair tossled by wind, with the barest hints of snowflakes still clinging to it. Jongdae almost felt bad, and then remembered he wasn’t the one to invite Zitao over in the first place.

 

“Yeah,” Zitao replied, after a second’s pause. “I am. And… so are you.”

 

“I am,” Jongdae agreed. He blocked Zitao for another moment or two, and then sighed and threw the door open wider. “Come in.”

 

Jongdae’s dorm room was messy. It hadn’t been messy before Jongdae had failed to correctly manipulate the magical energy of the room, but now it was. Honestly, Jongdae was stunned that nobody had come in to ask what had caused the ruckus. But his backpack had upended, spilling notes and scraps of paper all over his floor. His clothes, freshly folded by Minseok, were spilled all across the room.

 

Jongdae coughed, kicking his underwear underneath his desk to deal with later.

 

“So,” Zitao said, breaking the silence. Minseok was staring at him, sitting on the edge of Jongdae’s bed. “ ...Why am I here?” His eyes darted between Jongdae and Minseok, who looked at each other. It was a few awkward seconds until Minseok sighed, shifting forward to the edge of the mattress.

 

“How long have you been a witch for?” Minseok asked. The question was obviously for Jongdae’s benefit, as Zitao had already to him this, but Zitao went along with it anyway.

 

“Since my sophomore year of high school,” he said, considering. “My mom was a witch, too, so she gave me some old family books, and she taught me how to get control of it.” He leaned against the wall, thinking back. “So I guess I had it pretty lucky.”

 

“And you think that you could teach someone how to get control of their powers?” Minseok asked, this time pointedly directly his eyes to Jongdae at the word  _ someone _ .

 

Zitao hesitated. “I… I don’t know, but. I would be willing to try.”

 

“Great,” Minseok said, sliding to his feet and clapping his hands together with a loud  _ thud _ that had Zitao jumping. “Jongdae, this is Professor Zitao.” (“Don’t call me that,” Zitao interjected, but was ignored). “You can’t have something like that happen again.” Zitao didn’t know what  _ something like that _ necessarily meant, but he was almost certain he caught an air of concern in Minseok’s tone.

 

Jongdae, however, had his arms crossed over his chest, much akin to the pose of a scolded child. It was only a moment before he deflated, however. “Alright,” he said, in a tone as though he was carrying out a favor for Minseok, and not Zitao a favor for him. “Alright, fine. But I need a few days. I think I’m tired out.”

 

“I’m the one who pulled out all my reserve energy to save your ass,” Minseok scoffed. “And you think you’re tired out?”

 

“Ah, right, thanks god.” Jongdae was grinning, just barely, but enough so that Minseok rolled his eyes and walked across the room, to the door that Zitao guessed could only house the bathroom.

 

“I’m going to sleep,” Minseok said, eyes narrowed. Although Zitao hadn’t done anything wrong, a part of him almost felt guilty. “If you wake me up before tomorrow afternoon, I’ll stop cleaning your room for a week.”

 

“As if you could hold yourself back from that!” Jongdae called after Minseok, even as the door was slammed in his face. His face split into a broad smile, and he turned to face Zitao- Zitao, who was still standing beside the doorway into the dorm, feeling somewhere in between intruding and being left out. But Jongdae smiled warmly, welcomingly.

 

“Talk to me about witch stuff,” Jongdae requested. And so, Zitao did.

 

\---

 

After-class coffee dates expanded to become after class coffee dates followed by rigorous magical and internal meditation.

 

If Jongdae was honest, it was exhausting. Even though it only occurred twice a week, the training with Zitao as exams approached was enough to make him want to fall asleep by five every afternoon. And to make it worse, the lessons were  _ frustrating _ . At first, he thought that Zitao was just pushing him too hard, and had almost confronted him to make him slow down and go easier on him. But he had just happened to hear Zitao telling Minseok a story about how he had disciplined his magical energy enough to boil water in just under a week of practice.

 

Now, there was no way that Jongdae could admit defeat, even if his rate of learning appeared to be much slower than that of Zitao’s, even if he thought that if he heard the words _ focus on your breathing  _ one more time, he was going to explode.

 

“Focus on your breathing,” Zitao said, in that patient and calm tone of his. Jongdae’s mouth twitched but he obeyed, working to relax, to smooth out the wrinkle he felt gathering in his brow. After a few moments, a hand squeezed his, signal to continue to concentrate, but also to listen. He opened his eyes slowly, shifting just so to face Zitao.

 

“Do you have a hold on your energy?” Zitao asked, eyes searching Jongdae’s face even as he nodded, like he wasn’t sure he believed his word. Apparently, Jongdae’s face satisfied his question, because he sat back on his heels and pulled the pot of water forward, sitting on top of a potholder. He seemed almost as focused as Jongdae, and he wasn’t even the one about to do anything.

 

“Okay,” said Zitao, gesturing for the third time that evening towards the pot. Jongdae felt tired and annoyed, but he tried to push those feelings to the side. He reached out through the room, gathering the strands of energy aimlessly swirling around, and worked to harness it. Water, he thought to himself, boiled when energy made the molecules vibrate. It shouldn’t take much, he should be able to-

 

No matter how much he tried, the water barely did as much as shift.

 

Jongdae felt his frustration growing, and with it, he felt his concentration fall- but Zitao grabbed his wrist and squeezed, hard.

 

“Try again,” he pressed urgently, encouragingly.

 

The water began to boil.

 

Jongdae’s mouth dropped open, staring in stunned surprise at the pot as bubbles and steam formed on the surface, the heat of it clear and evident. Zitao’s hand fell off of his wrist, and instead flew to Zitao’s mouth.

 

“Holy shit,” Zitao said, and Jongdae felt almost offended.

 

“I thought you believed in me?” he said, even as pride in himself blossomed in his chest. Zitao smiled fondly at him, an expression that nearly stopped Jongdae’s heart in it’s tracks.

 

“I can’t say I’m not surprised,” he said teasingly, and laughed when Jongdae rolled his eyes and moved to stand up.

 

Zitao left soon after, leaving Jongdae to cook ramen with the pot, through his own stove this time. But before he went, he paused in the doorway and beckoned for Jongdae to come closer.

 

“What?” Jongdae asked, borderline annoyed as he was forced to stand up from his seat at his desk.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Zitao asked, leaning forward with such evident excitement and plea that Jongdae couldn’t think of a force in the world that would make him deny him.

 

The kiss was sweet and short, because Zitao really did have to go, but it made Jongdae’s lips heat up. And even when Zitao pulled away, he felt that he could still feel the imprint of Zitao’s lips against his.   
  
“Goodnight,” Zitao said, sounding breathless but smiling nonetheless, as he walked into the hallway.

 

“Goodnight,” said Jongdae in turn, closing the door behind him and standing there for a good amount of time, thinking, his mind flashing through images of  _ Zitao, Zitao, Zitao _ .

 

\---

 

Minseok’s involvement was unintentional.

 

Zitao and Minseok kept up on their habit of hanging out a few times a week, which had drifting to just something resembling friendship even before Jongdae had been let in on everything. Sometimes, Minseok would show up on Zitao’s doorstep after being annoyed just a bit too much by Jongdae, or simply being bored while Jongdae was out and about. And even if Zitao was studying or busy with something, he still welcomed him in, and still allowed him to sleep as a cat next to his desk, or  to use his Netflix account to watch whatever it was he wanted.

 

Today, however, Zitao had nothing to do, and so had absolutely no problem with accompanying Minseok to sit on the couch and watch the laptop screen, displaying an episode of a show that Zitao definitely didn’t know enough about to follow along with, but found himself enjoying anyway. Minseok’s comments were always funny or interesting, and even the silence was companionable.

 

Zitao liked Minseok. He liked that Minseok was nice to him, even if he was teasing. He liked that Minseok took his side against Jongdae’s (which was just common sense, he thought, even though Jongdae called it favoritism). He liked Minseok’s quiet presence, and the way that he wasn’t afraid to indulge Zitao, whether it was in the way that Zitao liked physical closeness, or dramas on tv, or unhealthy food.

 

Zitao never shied away from positive attention. Which was probably part of the reason that, after Minseok said something that made him laugh louder than was likely necessary, he found himself unable to look away while Minseok stared at him. Minseok had a beautiful face, one that was distinctly feline but also had a softness to it that was human.

 

Minseok hummed, leaning in closer. The invitation was clear.

 

Zitao closed the gap.

 

Kissing Minseok was different than kissing Jongdae. Kissing Jongdae had been quick, not enough time for any technique. Also the kiss with Minseok was innocent and chaste, and the second one similar, by the third Zitao was impatient. He tried to pushed further into the kiss, but each time he tried, Minseok only backed away.

 

Finally he pulled away, wondering if he had done something wrong, but the hint of a grin on Minseok’s face was very telling- was he  _ toying _ with him?

 

“Hey-!” Zitao started to protest, the exclamation making Minseok fall into laughter. “Not fair, I thought you were going to  _ kiss  _ me!”

 

“I did kiss you,” Minseok said teasingly, even as Zitao scowled and dropped his face against Minseok’s shoulder. “Maybe next time?”

 

Somehow, rather than being intimidating, Zitao only felt warm at the idea of a next time.

 

It wasn’t until Minseok walked out the front door to return to Jongdae’s for the night that the reality of the event even struck Zitao. And it was only a second later that his brain scrambled, wondering about Jongdae.

 

It wasn’t like the kiss with either Minseok or Jongdae had been anything serious. Both had hardly even qualified as kisses, Jongdae’s being swift and Minseok’s being light and simple. But he still fell heavily onto the couch in the middle of his dorm, staring at the doorway, thinking too deeply. What if Jongdae thought that it was more, what if Jongdae thought that kiss had been some kind of promise? What if Minseok wanted more from the  _ next time _ ? What if-? 

 

Zitao groaned, pulling a cushion over his face. He’d have to deal with that the next day.

 

\---

 

The next day came and went, and so did the next, and Zitao didn’t see Jongdae or Minseok a single time. He found himself having more and more difficulty actually contacting either of them. He thought it had to be in part due to the fact that he had absolutely no idea what it was that he wanted to say. He’d texted Jongdae both days and got responses, so it didn’t seem Jongdae was upset with him. Or maybe he just didn’t know.

 

It was after dark on that second day after that he got a text from Jongdae, the screen lighting up beside him as he was catching up on his writing piece for composition. He jumped on it instantly in search of an escape from the boring work, but the message made his bloodstream rush at about twice its normal speed.

 

_ Zhongda _

can you come by? minseok and i want to talk to you ( _ 8:09pm _ )

 

In Zitao’s mind, that could only mean bad things. Although the tone was no different than when Jongdae typically texted him, he still found himself looking it over from every angle, hesitating, searching for some hidden meaning, some sort of detectable anger.

 

Finally, he stopped himself and forced himself to breathe. He hadn’t done anything wrong, after all.

 

_ Me _

yea ill be there in like fifteen see u then ( _ 8:16pm _ )

 

Zitao dropped his phone onto the coffee table and stared, waiting for something- a message, something to indicate Jongdae was typing back to him, anything. After a minute or so, he forced himself to his feet and to go grab his coat.

 

\---

 

Jongdae and Minseok had been talking for what definitely felt like too long of a time before they finally called Zitao in, especially considering so much of it was about Zitao himself. Despite what Zitao had been thinking, neither of them were particularly upset.

 

“I didn’t know he was into beastiality,” was what Jongdae had said, and then ducked a pen being thrown at his face.

 

But the fact stood that, through talking, they both agreed that they had an interest in Zitao. And how could they not, given his sweet personality and the way that he got along so well with the both of them. But obviously, they couldn’t both date Zitao- which led to the question of if he was even that interested in them, or if either of them were quite on that level yet.

 

So Jongdae had texted Zitao, and they’d both sat back to wait.

 

Zitao was, to Minseok, the image of controlled fear, and he found himself feeling bad for him. “You’re not in trouble,” he assured, hoping he didn’t sound too much like some sort of scolding parent, because really, it wasn’t like he was upset to learn that he’d kissed Jongdae first. Well, actually, maybe he was a little disappointed he’d kissed Jongdae  _ first _ -

 

“What’s going on?” Zitao asked, sitting himself in that familiar desk chair, wheeling it adjacent to Jongdae’s bed, where him and Minseok sat.

 

Jongdae and Minseok exchanged a short look. “We wanted to know if you were actually interested in either of us, or if it didn’t mean anything,” Minseok ended up saying, because apparently Jongdae was too interested in being a pussy to ask the question himself.

 

“Because we were talking about it,” Jongdae interjected, as if to prove Minseok’s thoughts wrong. “And we’d both be interested in dating you, but if you’re not interested then-”

 

“Wait a second,” Zitao interrupted, shaking his head slowly. “You both like me?”

 

The incredulousness of it made both Minseok and Jongdae pause, and just like that, the air of awkwardness that had been established was broken into something a bit more comfortable. Minseok couldn’t help but laugh as he nodded.

 

“We do!” Jongdae insisted, reaching out towards Zitao, as though worried that he wouldn’t believe his claim. “Do you like us? Well, more importantly, do you like  _ me _ -” Minseok elbowed him in the side, playful but still strong enough to make Jongdae wince.

 

Zitao shook his head, but there was more fondness than disbelief in the action now, a smiling pulling at the corners of his lips.   
  


“How about you guys take me on some dates first, and then I decide,” Zitao suggested, eyes lighting up with excitement.

 

“That’s interest!” Jongdae insisted, elbowing Minseok in the side in a similar fashion to how Minseok had to him, although Minseok had no visible reaction. “Okay, sure, but only if I get to take you out first. Want to go get dinner with me tomorrow?”

 

“That’s definitely a step up from coffee,” said Zitao drily, a tone that made Minseok snort with amusement.

 

“I’ll call you,” Minseok said, instead of giving any preview to his idea.

 

Zitao grinned, leaning forward in his chair and glancing between the both of them. “Then, it sounds like a date,” he said, and was met with two equal sized grins.

 

\---

 

_ Competition: Who Can Charm Zitao the Best? _ became central to the lives of the three of them for about four weeks.

 

Zitao couldn’t say he wasn’t adoring the attention. He found himself out of his dorm four out of seven nights a week, on two dates each between the pair of them, and their dates were so incredibly fitting to the both of them that Zitao couldn’t help but come to expect certain things from each person.

 

Jongdae was ostentatious. With him, Zitao found himself sitting inside restaurants that he suspected no college student could really, honestly afford, but was unable to ask Jongdae to stop (because, really, who didn’t like being a little spoiled). He was taken to mueseums, where Jongdae talked extensive bullshit about things that he only had a vague idea on, but Zitao pretended to believe anyway. They’d even once gone to visit the nearby beach and walk the pier, although it was winter now and too cold to fully enjoy. Jongdae’s dates were fun and amusing, and energetic.

 

Minseok was calming. Dates with Minseok felt as easy as coming home. Sometimes, they just stayed in and watched kdramas together, or movies (once Minseok had found out that Zitao’s favorite movie was ratatouille, he’d rented it and they’d watched it the very next night). Sometimes this included cooking dinner on the stove, with Zitao or Jongdae’s groceries that didn’t spread very far, but Zitao liked to pretend that he was actually making some five-star college student food. Sometimes they just went on walks and talked, exploring campus.

 

Between the two of them, Zitao wasn’t sure he had any idea of what to do, or who he could possibly choose over the other. He’d had four weeks to think about it, four long weeks of incredible nights and faces that hurt from laughing and too much ignored homework, and definitely too much of ignoring Jongdae’s lessons, although the company of Jongdae at all was too promising for him to worry much about it.

 

He really, truly, had no idea what to do.

 

It was the last night of the dates, and it was with Minseok. Zitao was leaning against his shoulder and watching Minseok cook ramen noodles- not the most exciting experience, but still, something comforting about it.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Minseok asked, giving the pot a slow stir. “You seem sad. Not because this is your last time with me, right?” It was teasing, but Zitao still felt like he was kicked in the gut. He dropped his forehead against Minseok’s neck and tightened his grip around the older’s waist, an action that was apparently enough for Minseok to understand.

 

Ramen cooked and sat in bowls as they both climbed on top of the little kitchen countertop, Minseok waved at Zitao with his chopsticks. “Talk.”

 

Zitao stared at his noodle bowl, considering keeping quiet- but just like that, the dam broke, and he found the words hurling out of him as a speed too fast to control.

 

“I just- it’s been four weeks, I’ve been dating you and Jongdae for four weeks, right? So I should have made a decision by now, right? But everything about both of you- I don’t want to stop doing any of it. And it’s not fair to you guys, but I really like both of you. I like Jongdae’s smile, and I like your voice, and I like both of your presences and I’m sorry that I’m being selfish but I don’t want to lose either of you, I don’t think I can make this decision, Minseok, I’m so sorry.”

 

Minseok was silent, swirling noodles with his chopsticks in idle thought. Finally, he sighed, sitting the bowl on the counter and sliding off. He stood directly in front of Zitao and looked up at his face, hands on either side of Zitao’s thighs. Zitao thought that his face had to be visibly pink by those actions alone.

 

“I understand,” was what Minseok said, seeming surprisingly hesitant. “I… I like Jongdae too.”

 

Whatever Zitao had expected, it wasn’t that. He felt his jaw dropped, mouth forming into a small  _ o _ of surprise. At his reaction, Minseok was amused.

 

“You’re not alone with the whole confliction thing,” Minseok assured, patting Zitao’s knee gently. “I think he would throw up at the idea, but ever since you came along- I don’t know. I feel differently about him.” Zitao didn’t think he could recall a single time that he’d ever seen Minseok vulnerable. Even now, sharing his feelings like this, there seemed to be a small distance, something that Zitao was reluctant to beak, or maybe unsure of how.  _ Not yet _ .

 

“If he likes you-” Zitao insisted, leaning closer, but Minseok was shaking his head before Zitao had even completed his thought.

 

“He doesn’t,” Minseok assured, with that Minseok-type confidence. Only this time, Zitao wasn’t sure he bought it.

 

\---

 

_ Taozi _

do u like minseok ( _ 11:08am _ )

 

_ Me _

like my cat? as in what, exactly ( _ 11:12am _ )

 

_ Taozi _

like like like like ( _ 11:15am _ )

 

_ Me _

like like? ( _ 11:16am _ )

 

_ Taozi _

yeahh like like ( _ 11:18am _ )

 

_ Me _

_ is typing _

_ is typing _

i don’t know ( _ 11:29am _ )

 

\---

 

Jongdae showed up to Zitao’s dorm at six that afternoon, along with Minseok himself, who had been surprisingly quiet all day. Probably having something to do with the fact that he hadn’t transformed from cat to human a single time until it was ten minutes until they were due to leave for Zitao’s- and even then, his teasing of Jongdae had only been halfhearted.

 

It made Jongdae uneasy, if he was being honest. Considering the question that Zitao had messaged him that morning, the message that had him thinking far, far more than he desired to do on a weekend, he wondered if he was just reading too far into things, now that he was struck with the realization that maybe, just maybe, he did like him. Maybe he thought Minseok was a useful, constant presence in his life- someone to banter with and to annoy, someone who always seemed to know how he was feeling, someone who-

 

He stopped his thoughts in his tracks, because no matter what confrontation he was currently having about his  _ maybe _ crush, he wasn’t about to allow his brain to get all mushy about Minseok. Not when he was waiting for Zitao to accept or deny him.

 

Jongdae had to admit that stepping into the door of the dorm was eerily reminiscent to an episode of the bachelor, but Zitao wasn’t holding a rose. He was sitting on the couch in the center of his room- his roommate, Sehun, a boy that Jongdae had now met a few times, was almost always out in the afternoons.

 

“Hey,” said Jongdae lamely, giving a slight wave. Zitao snorted. A good sign.

 

“Listen,” said Zitao, once both Jongdae and Minseok were settled in their own seats. Jongdae did  _ not _ like the sound of that word. “You’re both- I really like both of you, okay?”

 

“Cut to it,” Jongdae interrupted, unable to help himself. “What’s your choice? Who do you want to date?”

 

Zitao looked at him, and then at Minseok, and then back at Jongdae, a sign Jongdae’s brain took as meaning that he was attempting to figure out a way to let Jongdae down easy.

 

What Zitao actually said was, “Neither of you.” When Jongdae and Minseok both stiffened dramatically, he hurried forward, creating as little pause as possible. “Neither of you unless- unless you guys want to try all three of us.” He looked less certain than he had been when he’d started his declaration, but also, hopeful.

 

Jongdae titled his head to the side, immensely confused. “As in… as in all three of us dating each other?” He felt like his brain was flashing him a large  _ does not compute _ error message, insistant that he was understanding incorrectly. There was no way there was a solution where he got to date both Zitao _ and _ Minseok. Besides, it wasn’t like Minseok-

 

“I’m okay with that,” Minseok spoke up, straightening his back and smiling at Zitao, who grinned back, pleased. Jongdae felt the error message flash faster, stuttering, irregular. “I think- I really think that’s worth a try, if Jongdae is okay with it.”

 

Jongdae blinked, suddenly finding both pairs of eyes on him. He hesitated- why, he wasn’t sure. But what poured out of his mouth a moment later was, “Yes. Yes, please, that sounds really, really good.”

 

And it did- the idea of having Minseok and Zitao both as boyfriends, the idea of going on dates with the both of them, of buying them both gifts, of playfighting, of  _ kissing _ .

 

“You’re sure?” Zitao asked, uncertain.

 

Jongdae nodded slowly, because shockingly enough, he  _ was  _ sure. He didn’t find a single part of him that didn’t see this completely worth a try. “Yeah,” he said, finding himself, at last, grinning too. “I’m sure.”

 

And just like that, it seemed the problem was solved.

 

Zitao ran up to him excitedly, kissing gently against his nose and then a little firmer, on the lips. In all the four weeks, they hadn’t had a second kiss, even if Jongdae had wanted one. So he didn’t deny himself now, setting his hands gently against Zitao’s waist and allowing him to lead the kiss with just a bit too much enthusiasm. Jongdae didn’t mind.

 

Then Zitao was out of his hands, and kissing Minseok instead. Jongdae found that he didn’t feel jealousy bubbling in his stomach, which he’d expected- what instead arose was something more like want, more like warmth. Minseok was struggling not to smile under the enthusiasm of Zitao’s kiss, by the tugging on the corners of his lips, but Zitao didn’t seem to mind.

 

Zitao pulled back, his grin so broad it seemed to split his face in two. “Your turn,” he demanded, and with barely concealed smiles, the pair obeyed.

 

Kissing Minseok was much different than kissing Zitao. It was a sweeter thing, something soft, but underneath there was a hard edge that sent a shiver through Jongdae’s whole body. He pulled back before long, staring with wide eyes at Minseok, who was no longer even bothering to conceal the mischief on his face.

 

“Wow,” Jongdae murmured, brushing at his lips gently with the pads of his fingers. “I guess I’m into beastiality too.”

 

Zitao spluttered, stunned by the statement, but Minseok leaned forward and laughed so genuinely that the joke was completely worth it.


End file.
